Satan's Masterpiece
by iceduchess
Summary: I was never made for the sun, Robin. It's about time you realised that." He sent her away to have his war; it should have been enough. But it never was with him. Isabelle of Locksley isn't a child any longer, she's more like the devil. AllanOC.
1. Never Underestimate The Devil

Okay. So basically, I'm a ridiculously slow writer. And due to this (and possibly the fact that I'm still at school), by the time I've written a few chapters, I find that 6 months has passed and my writing ability has improved hugely. Which therefore leads me to read back old chapters and think that I could do much better. So I'm restarting this story, this time with an actual (gasp) plot in mind. Many apologies. 

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Chapter One – Never Underestimate the Devil

Allan picked his way through the undergrowth, muttering to himself. Robin might have regained his head recently, after his initial rage at Marian's death but he was still darkened with grief and living with him was like living with a ticking bomb. Needless to say, Allan slipped away as much was physically possible, leaving others to deal with Robin. Taking life seriously wasn't Alan's forte; he was the first to admit that one.

His attention was so entirely fixed on hunting that he almost missed the flash of emerald in his peripheral vision. He could be forgiven, green in a forest was hardly unusual, but that exact shade and shape wasn't quite, well, _right._ A second look confirmed that. If anything it looked sort of… dress-shaped. And then it moved.

Frowning perplexedly, Allan made his way over to the small clearing where the dress lay, stopping at the edge of the trees.

It wasn't a dress. It was a girl with a head of red curls, wearing an emerald satin dress, lying flat on her back with arms sticking out from her sides at odd angles, staring moodily at the sky. Her features and expression might have placed her at no older that sixteen but an un-gentlemanly look over her form told him twenty at the youngest. Her skin was a stark ivory against the dank leaves of the forest floor and her eyes were a quiet, unsettling green in her otherwise pleasant features.

He spoke loudly, voice breaking the silence in a way that would have made most women jump or scream. "Are you lying in the middle of Sherwood Forest for any particular reason, lady?"

She didn't even flinch, just opened her (rather appealing in Allan's lewd opinion) red mouth to reply in a dry, sarcastic tone. "I was curious."

"About what?"

"Well, I wondered if I stared at the sky long enough whether I could get it to fall down to earth." Her every word dripped sarcasm.

"Come to any conclusions?"

She frowned darkly. "I suppose my results would have to be considered inconclusive, you see, I keep being interrupted."

Allan stifled a laugh, resorting to a large smirk instead. The girl didn't look at him but he saw the corner of her mouth quirk upwards. "Shame." He answered, mockingly.

"It is." She agreed nonchalantly.

They fell silent for what felt to Allan like an age. He twiddled his thumbs, trying to think of something to say to end the silence. Her mouth curved upwards as he grew more and more uncomfortable.

"I'm not being funny or anything." He began suddenly, starting forward to sit languidly at her side. "But that position cannot be good for that dress."

Her eyebrows rose incredulously and she finally moved, propping herself up on her elbows to look directly at him. He noted that she was unfairly good-looking from that angle. Her hair was a rusty golden-red in the dusk sun.

"Really?" She questioned. "That's all you've got? All that thinking and _that_ was what you came up with?"

He scowled at her. "I decided that the most obvious option was best."

She looked as though she was pondering his words for a moment. "Well it definitely was obvious."

He glared, flicking leaves towards her. "Says the girl who can't even answer a straight question."

Her expression was entirely innocent. "What question was that again?"

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

She pouted, bottom lip sticking out in a way that just begged to be kissed. From the way she looked at him, Allan was pretty sure she knew it too. "That wasn't the question, you've altered it." Her evasiveness was childlike. "That should be against the rules."

He draws his knife from its sheath, toying with it experimentally. "I reckon this says I don't have to play by the rules. Just answer the question."

She eyes the blade with something akin to curiosity, as though he had only then finally gained her interest. He realised she wasn't expecting that and he could almost hear the mental cogs whirring in her head as she changed tack. "Isabelle." Her voice was quiet, calm as all childish plays were dropped.

"What are you doing here, Isabelle?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Who?" His voice was sharp with impatience.

"My brother."

He finally got it. It was just another game. Different than before but a game still. This time she answers his questions perfectly whilst telling him absolutely nothing.

His eyes narrowed and she smiled serenely at him. "Who's your brother, Isabelle?"

She grinned. "You wouldn't know him."

He snapped and rolled over her so that she was pinned to the ground with arms held above her head and a knife at her throat. She kept grinning. "Honey, you're not going to hurt me." Her voice was so sickly sweet it was almost painful. "I'm too pretty."

She was entirely right and Allan wasn't sure whether that or the fact that he was intensely ware of her body underneath his was more irritating.

"Maybe." He grins toothily. "But my friends aren't nearly as patient as me. Or as lecherous." He smirked.

Her dark-eyed gaze flickered down the length of his body. "Shame." Her voice was sultry, echoing his earlier mockery.

They stared at each other for a few moments before Allan let out the breath he didn't even realise he was holding and rolled backwards on his haunches, before standing. He held out his hand to help her up, a rare gesture of courteousness. She looked surprised but took it all the same, allowing him to haul her upright.

"Come on."

She didn't move, just looked at him blankly.

"Come on." He said, impatiently.

Isabelle finally moved, taking a hesitant first step before rolling her eyes and following him into the trees. "You know…" she begins, her voice amused and taunting. "You haven't told me your name even though you know mine. Which brings me to the shocking conclusion that your Mother utterly failed in her duty to teach you good manners."

He had already turned most of the way with a retort on his lips when she began to laugh, thin shoulders shaking violently. She reminded him of someone he was sure, with her constant teasing.

"Well, apparently your Mother failed to teach you common sense." He smirked at her apparent confusion.

"Oh? How so?"

"Girl like you alone in Sherwood Forest near nightfall? Bad idea. There's dangerous folk about, this time of day."

She scowled. "I can look after myself."

"Little thing like you? What are you going to do, pout at them?"

Her features brightened devilishly. "No, that's plan B."

"What's plan A?"

"Run very, very fast in the opposite direction."

He couldn't suppress the laugh that followed that statement, foolish as it was. "Is there a plan C?" He asked curiously.

"Naturally."

"And it is?"

"Oh, I sleep with them."

Allan's head snapped to the side, eyes wide as they sought out her face in the dark. Her expression was such a picture of innocence that he wondered for a second whether he had imagined her words, but the telltale quirk at the edge of her mouth informed him otherwise.

"That's…" He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, "…a good plan."

Isabelle just smiled and kept walking behind him.

They walked along in silence from there, the dark night sky setting in properly by then, throwing up an unsettling stillness to the cool air.

"I need to cover your eyes." He said slowly, expecting some form of protest or resentment from her. Instead she merely nodded and stood, stock still, waiting. He untied a loose piece of fabric from his belt and turned her around so she was facing away from him. He raised it to her face and slid the rough material over her eyes, blocking out her sight, before tying it with a crude knot at the back of her head.

Her red curls were soft but the skin of her cheeks was icy and he wondered idly exactly _how _long she had lain on the forest floor before he had happened upon her. She shivered as a sudden breeze rushed past them.

"Cold?" Her only reply was a scathing look that he thought probably translated vaguely into 'Of course I'm cold you imbecile,' so he shrugs off his cloak and hands it to her.

Apparently she wasn't stupid even if she was proud so she took it from him with a muttered 'thank you' and wrapped it round her form. She looked vulnerable like that; tiny and weak for all her earlier confidence and wit. Allan couldn't quite decide which image was more appealing. (He went with the latter because he had never been the white knight and he somehow doubted that Isabelle had ever been the damsel in distress.)

He was surprised a few minutes later when, after she stumbled trying to follow him blindfolded, she didn't make any form of objection other than childish scowl when he grabbed her by the arm to pull her along at his side instead. He didn't bother being gentle, it was well past dark and the others would be wondering where he had gone. He didn't need to give them any more reason not to trust him, and she was slowing him down.

She tripped again anyway and he has to grab tightly onto her arm to prevent her from falling. She would have bruises in the morning.

"Nearly there." He said, even though he hadn't actually told her where they're going. He was somewhat surprised that she hadn't asked, as well as being confused by her apparent change of demeanour. He paused. "Why are you just letting me drag you off, without questions?"

She laughed at him. "I never said you weren't taking me where I wanted to go."

Allan stopped dead in his tracks. "You don't know where I'm taking you."

Isabelle's smile was smug, self-satisfied. "Of course I do. This is Sherwood Forest and you are quite obviously some kind of criminal otherwise you wouldn't have manhandled a noblewoman and thought to get away with it. And you're clearly not a petty thief or murderer because I'm wearing a blindfold which means that your hiding place is somewhere people are actually bothering to search for. Therefore the only legitimate conclusion I can draw is that you're taking me to the outlaws' camp."

Allan gaped at her. "That is… scary."

Isabelle looked genuinely pleased. "Thank you."

"But why would you want to go to the outlaws camp? You said you were looking for your brother."

"So I did."

"Which would mean that your brother is one of us. But you're noble and none of us are."

"Aren't they?"

Allan began to reply but the words died in his mouth as he finally put two and two together. "Robin is your brother?"

"Bright boy aren't you?" Came the taunting reply. And there it was again, that nagging reminder. Isabelle reminded him of Robin, and now Allan understood why.

"Allan!" Much's voice broke through the trees, making them both jump out of their skins.

"Move." Allan muttered, dragging her along, still wearing the blindfold, until they reached the edge of the camp where Much was waiting.

Much appeared confused. "Who's this?" He looked at Allan questioningly.

Allan's patience was wearing extremely thin. "Really Much? You don't, I dunno, _recognise _her or anything." He replied, tone scathing.

"Can I take this thing off yet?" Isabelle interrupted, hands scrabbling with the knot at the back of her head. Allan undid it roughly, yanking her curls harshly in the process. She hissed sharply in pain and hit out at him. He barely even felt the feeble blow.

Much appeared frozen to the spot, his face a mask of horror.

"Much? Are you still alive?"

"Isabelle." He croaked weakly.

"How very astute you are." Isabelle quipped. Apparently, even then she couldn't resist the urge to mock. Allan rolled his eyes.

"Oi! Robin!" He yelled out towards the encampment. "Got someone here to see you."

"He's not going to like this." Much whispered.

"No one asked for your opinion, worm." Isabelle's gaze was full of contempt.

Much was taken aback by her aggression; she appeared to have changed hugely since he last saw her, aged twelve. "I'm a free man now. I don't need your permission to speak."

Her expression was livid. "Really? You want to test that theory?" She took a quick step towards him but was interrupted.

Isabelle? Is that you?"

"Robin." She turned to face her brother and made her way over to him. For a moment it looked as though she intended to embrace him, but then there was a sickening crunch as her clenched white fist met his face and blood began to flow freely from his nose. She made as though to hit him again but Allan jumped in, holding her arms behind her back as Tuck pulled Robin away to examine him.

"I'm not trying to be funny or anything." Allan panted as she struggled against him. "But when you said you were looking for your brother you never said anything about wanting to beat the living daylights of him."

"Oh I'm sorry, did I forget to mention that part? My mistake." She hissed from between clenched teeth.

Eventually she slowed her movements and he released her before grabbing hold of her wrist to examine her hand. As he had expected, the marble of her knuckle was split near enough to the bone. "Delicate little thing aren't you?" He said, smirking as he began to clean the wound out.

Her eyes flickered angrily at him. "Some of us don't need to beg or fight to get by."

"Snobby too." He observed, grinning. "See, what strikes me as odd is that you can't seem to stand honest, loyal Much but you treat a lying thief like me like I'm your equal. Why's that?" He was genuinely curious.

Isabelle pursed her mouth and looked away as he tied the material he'd used earlier as a blindfold, around her hand. "All done." Allan said, rising. As she still didn't answer he began to pick his way over to the camp.

"You really want to know?" He stopped, turning back to face her. "It's not about blood or social standing even if I am a snob." She grinned suddenly. "I just don't like Much."

He couldn't help but grin back at her. "You know," she began, "you never did tell me your name."

"You hadn't got it by now. I'm Allan."

"Just Allan?"

He raised an eyebrow but bowed exaggeratedly anyway. "Allan A Dale at your service, ma'am. And your's?"

She laughed, but answered mock seriously. "Isabelle of Locksley."

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Cheesy I know, but I had to end it somewhere. Hope you liked!

Please R&R, I love to here anything you have to say. Grammar, structure, even criticism, I'm always looking to improve my work. Please be kind, my feeble little heart can't take flaming but I'm always open to constructive criticism and ideas for where to go with this story.

IceDuchess xxx


	2. Freefall

Chapter 2 – Freefall

Robin's expression was wretched as he looked at his sister across the table. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, posture perfect, vivid green eyes accusing. He turned his face away; unable to bear the burning guilt her stare made him feel. He thought that he would gladly take another million of her punches if it would stop her looking at him like that; like he had completely and utterly betrayed her. He _hadn't. _He had saved her, saved her from the destitution and loneliness that would have followed had she stayed at Locksley.

"Belle." He began, voice hoarse and pleading. He sounded guilty and he knew it, had to keep telling himself that he wasn't, the words washing around his head, chanting.

"Why?" She still didn't stop looking at him, didn't stop accusing him with her gaze. He didn't remember her like this. He remembered the tiny girl with ragged hair and eyes that cried more often than they smiled. He remembered her desperate weakness, the way she followed him everywhere, needed him constantly.

He didn't answer her but she pressed it anyway. "Why did you send me away? Why?"

"It was better. I couldn't look after you."

"I didn't ask you to look after me." She jumped on his words, her own vicious, lashing out at him. He couldn't think of an answer, just wondered when she became so strong. She looked so intensely like their Mother that it hurt to watch her, because her furious face was so contrasting with the gentle expression he recalls.

"You didn't have to ask me. You needed me."

She gave him that much. "I don't need you anymore." It hurt more than either of them expected it to. Him because even during those previous eight years he had still thought of himself as her guardian, her because she didn't realise completely until that moment how utterly true they were.

"Then why are you here, Isabelle? If you don't need me?"

"I _don't _need you." She hurled the words at him, sharper than any knife could ever be.

"Then why?" He was angry then as well, didn't understand what she wanted.

She didn't know either, not really. "I want you to lie to me. I want you make an excuse."

"You want a reason to be angry." He replied, calmer.

"I already have a reason to be bloody angry, Robin!" She glanced away, staring into nothing for several seconds. " I'm giving you a chance to talk your way out of it. Which is more than you ever gave me that night you packed me off."

"You were too young." He muttered. "You didn't understand."

"I didn't understand? Trust me on this one, Robin, I understood perfectly." She had that look on her face, one his Father used to wear when he had thought of a particularly choice insult, and he fought the urge to run from the truth he knew she intended to deliver.

"I was just another sacrifice. You and your bloody sacrifices. How many more have you made since, Robin? How many more of us have you sacrificed for your causes? Is that what this whole outlaw thing is about? Just another cause, more people to save?"

He flinched visibly away from Isabelle's words. He wondered if she always thought like that, just never had the anger to say it before. _Marian. _Her name fluttered to his tongue, the pain of her loss fresh all over again.

Isabelle noticed his reaction, saw the weakness. She went for it again, determined to hurt him in any way she possibly could. "Why is it never you, Robin? Why are you so important?"

He cursed under his breath. He had already dealt this argument with Kate. She couldn't see it either, why his name mattered more than a hundred men's lives. He should have known that Isabelle wouldn't.

"I bring them hope."

"And what about me?" She yelled, slamming her palms down flat on the table. Finally he saw the tears in her eyes, something he recognised in her, even if they were of fury and not of anguish.

Her voice quietened until it was barely loud enough to hear. "You had your war, Robin. It should have been enough."

"It wasn't."

She rose, pushing herself up off the table with her hands, before walking away. "I can see that."

He rose too, following her quickly. He wasn't going to let her just walk away. "Where are you going?"

She turned to face him, hands raised in a defensive gesture. "God knows. I can hardly go back to Locksley can I?" She smiled nastily. "No thanks to you."

"So what?" He grew angry, catching hold of her arm to stop her leaving. "You're going to sleep rough? Live like a peasant?"

"Let go." She growled, trying to tug herself free of his grip. "Let go of me."

"Answer the question."

"Let go!"

"Just answer the damn question! You're not going to stay here?"

"And breathe the same putrid air as you for longer than I have to? I don't think so."

He sighed exasperatedly, loosening his hold on her upper arm. She wrenched herself free, stepping backwards to put space between them.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I suppose for now I'll have to stay in Nottingham. The Sheriff has very kindly allowed me a room." Her eyes glowered at him. "Its good to know that you haven't completely blown our family's name."

Robin stood still and stared at her, reeling. "You have got to be joking. That man spends his every waking moment trying to kill me and you are waiting on his _hospitality._ The only reason he could possibly do something like that is because he means to use you to get to me."

"Yes."

"Yes?" He frowned perplexedly.

"Yes, I'd say that's pretty much exactly what he wants from me."

"I can't believe you." Robin moaned, running his hands through his hair as he paced back and forth in front of her.

"Well, I am fairly unbelievable." The only response she got was a withering look.

Isabelle gave a scornful scoff at his silence, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning heavily on a tree. "I'm not stupid, I know exactly what he wants. But seeing as you are now effectively useless, I'm going to have to fend for myself. Don't worry though, I've managed for the past eight years, I'll manage now."

"I sent you to good people, Isabelle, I hardly left you on your own." Robin argued.

Isabelle seemed to suddenly drain of all her anger and slid down the tree to sit at its base dejectedly. "This is pointless." She pushed her fingers over her forehead, tangling them in her hair. "I'm going back to Nottingham tonight and I think we should consider that the end of it. You stay out of my life and I'll stay out of yours."

Robin stared at his sister. "Just like that?"

"It hurts doesn't it? To know that the person who should always be there for you really doesn't live up to the ideal."

"So this is revenge?"

She laughed derisively. "Gods no. This is self-preservation. This is me looking after myself because you failed to do so."

She rose with ease, before shrugging Allan's cloak off. She held it out towards him, bunched up in one hand. "Give this back to Allan. And thank him for me, won't you?"

"Keep it." Robin muttered. "You'll only be cold and he can get another."

Isabelle smiled gently, a flicker of the kind-hearted girl he remembered. She pressed the bundle into his arms. "Don't be silly. Nottingham is not too far and the walk will serve to warm me."

She turned and slipped away into the trees, just a rustle of satin skirts and messy auburn curls.

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Isabelle hurried through the forest, determined to return to Nottingham before the gates of the castle were closed. A noise behind her made her jump, clutching her hands to her chest. Tuck emerged from the darkness.

"God, you scared me."

Tuck frowns vehemently at her choice of words. "You should not use the Lord's name in vain."

She grinned condescendingly back at him. "And you, as a man of God, should know better than to eavesdrop, but that didn't stop, you did it?"

"You play games with your brother's emotions."

"Of course I do. I'm a woman and you should know better than most that all women are the devil, don't you think?" Isabelle laughed, deliberately dragging him away from the purpose of his statement.

"Women have a place, along with every other being on this earth."

"And that is below men, is it not? The only thing that remains to be determined is whether we are speaking figuratively or literally."

Tuck visibly blanched at the crudity of her speech so she continued. "I have no qualms with the latter, if you catch my meaning, but the former I must protest. I have come to the educated opinion that men in general are inclined to be rash and make bad decisions."

Tuck said nothing but she pressed the issue. "You would disagree? A man like you would counsel rationality would you not?"

"I would counsel reason, yes, but to be lead entirely by the head and not be influenced by the heart leads to ruthlessness and cruelty."

Isabelle's step did not slow but her expression was contemplative as she considered his words. "I think perhaps we shall have to agree to disagree."

"Perhaps we shall. At any rate I didn't follow you to debate the role of men and women in society."

"No, I don't suppose you did, interesting as it was."

She sighed loudly, motioning towards him with her hands. "Go on then. Get it over with. Let me have it. Unleash hell's fury. I could go on but I think you probably get the point."

Tuck just smiled at her, echoing her earlier condescension. "You're not a clever as you think you are."

"That's probably not difficult, after all I have an extremely high opinion of myself, didn't you notice?"

"I noticed. My point still stands though."

"I'm listening."

"You're angry with Robin. You want revenge but you're not sure quite how far you're willing to go. Tonight was about you working out just _how _much you hate him."

"Go on."

"That's all I've got so far. I don't think even you know all of it."

"Sweetheart." She drawled, grinning. The term of affection was degrading, meant entirely as an insult. "I thought more of you. There's _so _much more to me than that. I hate, I love, I desire. You can't even begin to understand me."

Tuck cut across her, getting straight to the point. "I don't care about understanding you. To Robin you might still be the little sister who can be forgiven anything but to me you're just a selfish, spoilt child who wants to ruin everything that we stand for on a petty whim. There are bigger, far more important things at stake here and if you betray us, I'll make sure that we take you with us."

Isabelle looked as though she had been slapped. Her feet faltered but she rallied quickly enough to reply smoothly. "Why would I betray you? After all my brother and your friends have done for Nottingham, that would surely be a foolish thing to do."

"Or perhaps just the actions of a woman who has nothing to lose."

She narrowed her eyes at Tuck. "What makes you think I have nothing to lose?"

"You have nothing."

"Its not the same thing."

"Isn't it?"

"No!" She snapped, eyes flashing angrily. "Having nothing and having nothing to lose are two entirely different situations." Tuck smiled smugly, pleased to have clearly hit upon a weakness.

He said nothing in return as they had reached the edge of the forest, with Nottingham closely visible. "I can make it from here on my own, thank you. I would say it has been a pleasure but…" she paused, deliberating, "…as I'm sure you are aware, the Bible frowns upon lies."

"It also frowns upon liars, but I doubt that will stop you, will it?"

She laughed darkly. "I doubt it."

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The camp was deathly quiet as Allan, John and Much waited for Tuck's return. They were unclear as to precisely why he had left but they knew enough to realise he was going after Isabelle.

Robin had disappeared completely once his sister had left. Much had tried to follow him, fretting, but John had practically hauled him backwards by the scruff of his neck.

Not that it had helped, Allan reflected, watching as Much paced back and forth, muttering to himself and wringing his hands. Now they were lumbered with his inane ramblings.

"Much, for pity's sake just _sit down._" John growled, the younger man's antics finally getting the better of his temper.

"Shouldn't one of us go after him though?" Much replied, voice shrilly. "He's not in his right mind, he might do something stupid…" His babble descended quickly from words so that it was just a bunch of worried noises.

Allan rolled his eyes and poked at the fire. John grabbed his staff and swung it across, taking Much's feet out from underneath him so that he landed soundly on his backside. It was effective, Allan noted, Much looked so surprised that he stopped talking instantly.

"Just calm down. Robin will be fine."

"Oh, I don't know." Allan remarked, casually. "She might come back and kill him."

Much let out a high pitched whimpering noise.

"She's just a girl." John assured Much, glaring daggers at Allan. "And Tuck went after her anyway."

Allan couldn't resist winding him up a bit more. "You can say that, but we don't know what he did. It must have been pretty bad to make her hate him so much."

"He sent her away to London so he could fight in the Holy Land." Much muttered.

Allan grinned. "No wonder she's angry."

"She was only twelve. She didn't understand."

"Well she's not twelve anymore, is she? She's got to be twenty at least. Somehow, Much, I _think _she gets it."

"Well clearly she doesn't, because she's still angry."

"I said she understood, I didn't say she agreed."

Their argument was broken up by the return of Tuck. He sunk down next to them in silence. They all looked at each other, before turning to face him. "So?"

Tuck just made a disgusted noise.

"What is it with incoherent noises today? Speak English." Allan sniped.

"She's not stupid."

"You don't say." Allan replied, sarcastically.

Much gave him an odd look. "What do you mean, 'you don't say'?" He questioned, voice laced with suspicion.

Allan did his best to look nonchalant. "Just that she seemed clever enough."

"You said you barely talked. I asked, and you said that you found her and brought her straight here."

Allan widened his eyes, innocently. "I did!" He protested. "It hardly takes detailed conversation to work out whether someone's an idiot or not."

Much looked appeased for the time being and the camp fell silent, the only sounds being the crackly of the fire and the sigh of the wind as it curled around the trees. Allan stared determinedly into the flames, well aware of Tuck's curious gaze on him.

The art of keeping silent for more than a minute apparently eluded Much; Allan could see him struggling with the desire to speak in his peripheral vision. "Just spit it out, Much."

Much didn't waste a second. "I can't believe how different she is."

Tuck looked up at him. "So? People change, it happens."

"Not that much. No one changes that much."

Allan's curiosity got the better of him. "What did she used to be like?" He tried to picture her as a child but couldn't find an image that fit. Those scalding green eyes didn't fit a child's face.

" Timid." Much began, only to be interrupted by John's scoff of disbelief. "No really." He persisted. "She used to cry all the time, you couldn't so much as tease her before she ran off in tears."

"That's not timid, that's pathetic." Allan pointed out.

"She was just like that. Strange. She was different from all the other children."

"Richer, you mean." John muttered.

"No, it wasn't that. I mean, yes, she was snobbish, but it wasn't just that. Robin was the only one who could ever get more than a few words out of her and even then it wasn't exactly decent conversation."

Allan couldn't fit the words that spilled out of Much's mouth with the woman he had met earlier that evening. Eventually he lost interest, rolling over and stretching out on the ground to doze.

Unfortunately for Allan's beauty sleep, Robin chose this as his exact moment to return, sitting down heavily somewhere near Allan's head and forcing Allan to sit up and at least appear to be paying attention.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." He addressed them with his usual solemn tone, making Allan roll his eyes for the umpteenth time that evening. "But it doesn't really matter. Isabelle is staying in Nottingham and she intends to stay out of our way."

His eyes were earnest, flitting across their faces nervously. "She shouldn't be a problem."

"She seemed pretty angry." John volunteered.

"Alright, so she's on the abusive side. If she lays into you, you ignore her and let me know. Eventually she'll get bored and stop bothering you."

He stood again and stalked across the camp, bending to pick something up before walking back over. He handed it to Allan, who finally realised what it was. His cloak.

"She said to thank you." Robin's tone was dark; it hurt him that his sister was pleasant to Allan when she so clearly despised Robin.

"Oh, right." Allan replied, raising his eyebrows. "She could've kept it. I wasn't that bothered."

"Not like you to be so chivalrous, Allan." Tuck contributed, his deep voice surprising them all.

"I'm not being funny, but why does everyone pick on me every time I do something decent." He argued, hotly. "She was cold, I gave her my cloak. End of story."

He rose from the edge of the dwindling fire. "I'm going to sleep. We're meant to be heading into Locksley in the morning anyway."

The others murmured their assent, each picking themselves up. The fire was put out and slowly the quiet of sleep settled over the camp.

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That may actually be the quickest I have ever updated. It'll probably slow up a bit now, because I'm back to school tomorrow, but hopefully I'll have the next chapter up in a week or two.

**Again, please leave a review; I always want to know what people think.**

**Thanks, IceDuchess xx**


	3. Dance With The Devil

**Authors Notes: Even though nobody actually reads these things (or at least, I sure as hell don't), I'd like to thank those who reviewed for the last chapter. I am truly sorry for the rather large delay; I have been enjoying my time with a partially collapsed lung and a ton of exams plus the joys of a summer job. **

**Anyways, on with the story! This is where my version of events truly departs from the show. AU from here in folks. **

**This chapter is a present for House-of-Nickel who's review reminded me that this chapter had been 90% finished for the past two months and needed uploading.**

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Chapter 3 – Dance With The Devil

Kate's addition to the outlaw camp came as a welcome distraction to the gang even if its circumstances were less than desirable. She was easy to irritate, she made Much look ridiculous and she proved helpful in most situations even if she (like Djaq before her) refused to cook or clean.

In Allan's opinion, it was shame, as Much's cooking got worse by the day but it wasn't something they saw the need to push. Robin seemed to like her well enough at least, even if, to Allan's satisfaction, she didn't appear to think a lot of him. And Much's attempts at wooing women were always a constant source of amusement.

It seemed that Isabelle's disturbance was nothing more than a minor blip and she appeared to be keeping to her word; they hadn't seen sight or sound of her, even with the entire ruckus over the tax collector and his son. Robin had quickly shaken off his dark mood and carried on as normal, even if he did look towards the castle more often than previously.

Kate had shown little interest in Isabelle, although they were roughly the same age and she admitted remembering her easily enough. Allan somehow suspected her lack of interest was more to do with her low opinion of Robin than anything else. At any rate Allan had time for anyone who didn't have time for Robin's ego.

In the end, it was a solid three months before they laid eyes on Robin's younger sister again.

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Kate and Much were positioned outside of Nottingham gates, waiting on a message that was rumoured to be delivered sometime that day for the Sheriff. Tuck and Robin had both agreed that it _was_ probably just a rumour or decoy but had also agreed that it was a good idea to keep an eye out anyway. Which left the Kate and Much with nothing to do but loll about in the Sun outside the castle walls, watching for something that most likely wouldn't even come.

Sunday was always a quiet day, so the lack of people entering Nottingham was no surprise. Allan was due to relieve them at noon, but the sun passed over in the sky and he didn't appear. In fact, no one appeared at all until the distinct sounds of a lone horse came from the track to the North of the castle.

Much grabbed Kate, dragging her to the ground, well out of sight. Well, theoretically anyway, the truth was that they were still very much visible to anyone who was mounted on a horse, but apparently that wasn't a thought that had occurred to them.

"What are you doing?" Kate tried to pull herself up again but Much held on firmly to her arm.

"There's someone coming."

"And?"

"Someone important."

"What, and you can magically tell that from their footsteps, can you?" Kate whispered furiously, words biting.

"No." Much protested. "But do you know any peasants who ride light on horseback? They have carts or pack horses, they don't ride horses for pleasure."

"Oh." Kate looked extremely put out at being outdone by Much, but she didn't have time to reply as an amused voice cut over them.

"Comfortable down there? I didn't realise the camp had shifted this far." Isabelle laughed down at them. She was balanced side-saddle on a dark bay horse, reins clasped in one pale hand, the other supporting her weight by holding the front of the saddle as she leant forwards towards them. Her ivory skin was darker than it had been; it had an almost golden hue to it, demonstrating clearly the amount of time she had been spending out of doors in the previous three months.

Kate rose quickly from the grass, yanking Much up by the scruff of his neck. Isabelle clearly appreciated the gesture, her grin widening at the undignified manner in which he was being treated.

She swung down from the saddle and made her way over to them, still keeping a tight hold of the reins.

Her dress was tenfold more practical than her previous satin creation; it was a simple white cotton piece that hung off her thin frame, tied with an expensive-looking green sash at the waist. Her wild red curls were held back with an ornate silver clasp.

There was a curious lack of animosity in her green gaze as it passed over Much's face, before landing on Kate. "I know you." She stated, brows joining together in confusion.

"I'm Kate. My family runs the pottery in Locksley."

"Of course, I remember now." She didn't bother introducing herself; it wasn't as if Kate didn't already know her name. "I didn't know you were recruiting."

Much was unimpressed. "There's an awful lot you don't know about."

"Are you volunteering to fill me in?" Much scowled in response.

She turned to Kate, still smiling. "Living alone in the forest with just my brother and his female-deprived men? Brave. You're a woman after my own heart."

Much opened his mouth, affronted. "We are not female-deprived! You make us sound desperate."

"You are." Isabelle assured him, before addressing Kate again. "No offence meant to you, of course."

"None taken." Kate's mouth twisted distastefully as she glanced at Much. "They're hardly my ideal company either."

Isabelle smiled complacently. "I'm sure they're not that bad. I know Much can't stop talking for more than a minute at a time, and Robin can be a patronising prig at times, but they must have their merits."

Much scoffed loudly. "Something to add?" Isabelle questioned.

"Three months ago you would have been happy if Robin was strung up and run through."

"Maybe I've mellowed."

"And maybe Hell has frozen over."

She smiled sweetly at him. "No, trust me, it hasn't."

Much scowled back at her. "One. That's not funny. Two. One day somebody is going to believe you when you imply that you're in league with the Devil, and then you really will be in trouble."

It was Isabelle's turn to scowl. "Thank you for the advice, I'll keep it in mind." She answered, polite tone still carefully controlled through gritted teeth.

A sour silence followed, with Isabelle glaring daggers at Much and Kate doing her best to pretend she wasn't there. She wasn't qualified to deal with Much when he was sulking and knew too little of Isabelle to truly gage her character. She didn't think she had ever been so glad to see Allan appearing around the side of the castle walls.

His expression was typically amused; a laughing smirk on his face when he saw who accompanied them. Much, still overly indignant, started to berate him.

"You were meant to be here at midday. We've been waiting for hours."

Allan ignored him completely, eyes fixed on the redhead beside them. Isabelle's grin was like the rising sun as her line of vision registered him and her posture shifted slightly so that she was leaning back against horse behind her, hand stroking its muzzle affectionately.

"Ladies." Allan bowed mockingly. "Mu… no. Ladies."

"The company just keeps improving." Isabelle remarked, voice blatantly flirtatious.

Much appeared to choke, spluttering loudly. Three pairs of raised eyebrows turned towards him, incredulous. "You're unbelievable." He said to Isabelle.

She pondered the thought for a moment. "Its strange." She said, slowly. "But people keep saying that to me. At first I took it as a compliment only now it's starting to get irritating."

Kate spoke to Much. "We'd better get back to camp anyway. Allan's here now, there's no need for us." She nodded her goodbye to Isabelle and dragged Much off by the arm.

Isabelle laughed. "And then there were two."

"I've got to hand it to you, I think Much trusts you even less than me."

Isabelle was too sharp to not pick up on any hint of discord amongst her brother's outlaw gang. Weaknesses were always her speciality.

"Why wouldn't he trust you? You're on the same side, aren't you?" Her gaze was shrewd, trying to evaluate him.

Allan debated with what to say. He realised that even if he lied, she'd hear the truth from somewhere eventually. "Last year, I betrayed them to Gisbourne. I came back but they still doubt me sometimes."

Isabelle's reaction surprised him. He knew that her feelings towards Robin were hardly cordial but betrayal was betrayal, whomever the victim, and most reacted with some form of revulsion. She didn't even flinch, just eyed him with interest, as though he had risen surprisingly in her expectations.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you betray him?"

Allan was surprised; he realised no one apart from Will had ever actually asked him why before, and even then Will had asked out of anger rather than a desire to understand.

"Money, I suppose."

Isabelle raised speculative eyebrow. "Nobody betrays their friends just for money. Money is the excuse. There's always another reason; that niggling feeling that was there all along and just needed the right circumstances for it to rear its ugly head." She smiled invitingly at him. "So what was your niggling feeling?"

Allan just stared at her.

"Go on." She urged, leaning further back against her horse as she waited.

"Robin always acts like he's better than me. Like I'm replaceable when he is the most important thing in this Country."

Isabelle appeared unimpressed. "Sweetie, I wouldn't take it personally. I'm family and he didn't even bother replacing me, he just got rid of me."

"To fight in the Holy Land." Allan said, defending Robin for reasons unknown to even himself. "He went to help the King."

"And that's the problem isn't it? We're just his little pawns. Robin is always after his precious causes but he forgets the people close to him. Then he loses us, and can't understand why."

"That's what happens, though. Sometimes you lose people."

"Can I ask you something?" She didn't wait for an answer. "When this whole thing started, what was it about?"

Allan was puzzled. "Saving the peasants from the Sheriff, I suppose."

"Now? No actually, don't tell me. Let me guess. Now you're fighting for the whole of England and King. See, that's Robin's way. Always moving onto bigger things, leaving the little people behind. Nottingham got too small for him."

Allan's expression was incredulous. "I'm not being funny, but you are one _bitter_ girl."

For a moment Isabelle looked affronted, before she burst out laughing. "I think you'll find I'm actually quite sweet." She bantered, expression playful.

Allan pretending to regard her before shaking his head slowly. "No. You are many things, but sweet is definitely not one of them."

"Oh really? Well, I am going to be sweet now and tell you that the messenger I assume you are waiting on came and went yesterday. You've missed him."

"And you neglected to tell Much and Kate this, why?"

"If Much won't tell me what he knows, why would I be obliged to tell him what I know?"

"But you're telling me."

"You're much more fun to look at." Isabelle sighed dramatically. "I confess, I'm just that shallow."

"That's true."

Isabelle glared accusingly at him and he grinned back at her. "I meant the former, obviously."

"Obviously." She agreed, pacified. They fell silent for a few moments before Isabelle turned to mount the horse again. "They'll be looking for me if I'm much longer." She stated, by way of an explanation.

"I'd better get back anyway, if this ruddy messenger's not coming."

"Perhaps I'll see you before three months are out this time?"

Allan grinned, enjoying what was clearly interpretable as an invitation. "I think that could probably be arranged, milady."

"Well then." She stirred her horse to move, before turning back to add. "Until next time. It was a pleasure seeing you again, although I do think that the pleasure was really all your's."

"Naturally." Allan watched her as she trotted up to the gates, only to catch himself and turn away, back towards the forest as Isabelle disappeared out of sight.

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By the time Allan made it back to camp, Much had informed the entire gang of Isabelle's appearance and Robin was waiting impatiently to question him.

"Well?" He demanded as soon as Allan appeared in the clearing.

The other man appeared taken aback. "Well what?"

"Isabelle." Robin snapped. "What did she say?"

Allan shrugged. "Nothing really."

Robin growled. "Nothing?"

Allan reconsidered. "Well, she did happen to mention that the messenger was a decoy and he actually came yesterday."

Much let out a cry of disbelief. "It didn't occur to her to mention this to Kate and I, when she was talking to us?"

Allan laughed. "Well, I'm not being funny mate, but I don't think she really likes you a great deal."

"_She _doesn't like anyone, the spoilt, selfish…"

"She's my sister." Robin's voice cut across Much, his eyes flashing a warning look. "Watch your mouth."

Much fell into a subdued silence, as Tuck watched Allan with shrewd, mistrusting eyes. "Much and Kate returned the best part of an hour ago. You were there all that time, and that was _all _she said?"

Allan shifted uncomfortably. "That was all she said." He lied. His blue eyes widened like they always did when accused; a trait he didn't actually recall picking up. Useful or telling, he wasn't sure which.

The suspicious looks continued and Allen went with his favourite tactic. Lie through his teeth. "I don't understand why all of you lot are so worried about her. She's just a silly little girl who wants some attention."

"And you give it to her?" Tuck's mouth curled with disgust, voice laced with implications.

"Don't be daft. I'm _nice _to her. Try it, you might find it helps."

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Nottingham was a dank place with the fading autumn and oncoming winter, the smell of disease and starvation reaching even the highest towers of the castle. Isabelle stalked the corridors with a dark, precise smile to her face.

The grand hall opened before her as she reached them, revealing the man she had been seeking out. The Sheriff of Nottingham looked up to see her enter, a smooth smirk curving his lips. "My Lady." He bowed mockingly, over-exaggerated as always.

Her expression darkened into a contemptuous turning of her mouth. "Vasey." She seated herself without asking. He followed suit, sitting in the chair opposite her.

"Fruit?" He gestured towards the bowl with a bejewelled hand. She took an apple but didn't eat it, merely turning it from one hand to another.

"You want something." He stated.

"I do."

"Spit it out then."

Isabelle's vivid green eyes were fixed on the Sheriff's face, full of derision for his withering figure. "I want Locksley." Her voice was cool; defined and her sharp gaze was unmoving.

Vasey's face split into laughter, sneering at the young woman in front of him. "Why would I give _you _Locksley? It is already given to Gisbourne."

"So un-give it." Isabelle hissed, rising slightly from her chair before thinking better of it. "Do you forget who I am? It is my birthright and I _will _have it."

The Sheriff was completely silent as he regarded her with a calculating look. Finally he seemed to come to a decision. "And if I give you Locksley, what do I get out of it?"

Isabelle settled slowly back into her seat, making herself more comfortable. "_When _you give me Locksley, I'll give you what you want."

"And that is?"

"My brother." Isabelle's smile was deadly. "You give me Locksley and I'll give you Robin Hood."

"You haven't seen your brother in eight years. How are you going to do that?"

"He's Robin Hood. Not exactly hard to find." Isabelle sneered back at him. "I'm his little sister. He wants to trust me, and so he will. Information first of course until I can gain his trust back, but if you keep your end of the bargain, I'll find out where the camp is sooner rather later."

She paused, eyes darkening as they stared off into the shadows. "And then you can kill him. Once and for all."

Vasey looked interested. "Why would you betray your own kin?"

Isabelle's expression was savage; snarling. "Because Robin has trodden on me, one too many times."

Vasey's smile matched her earlier one. "You're cleverer than they give you credit for, you know."

"Then we have an agreement?"

"I can't see why not. Locksley is yours."

Isabelle was satisfied, smile grim. "Excellent."

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This one was a little shorter but I felt bad about not updating for so long and wanted to get something up. I'm a little worried that my writing style has changed drastically in the last few months already so you may notice that the last section in particular is a little out of place.

**Please review, as you can tell, reviews do actually get chapters out of me. ******

**-PoisonTongue (IceDuchess) - I have serious issues with remembering which I am on Fictionpress and Fanfiction)**


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